


come and see

by TomBowline



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate History - No Homophobia, Anal Fingering, Autistic Edward Little, Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Canon Compliant, Come Swallowing, Exhibitionism, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Edward Little, Porn with Feelings, Repression, Sex Toys, Twitter: terror_exe Flash Fest, Victorian Attitudes, i know that's a confusing trio of tags but just trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomBowline/pseuds/TomBowline
Summary: An infatuation with a fellow sailor. Unlooked for and unreturned and with an upsetting depth of emotion. It could not be worse. So Edward had believed.For the terror_exe flash fest, prompted bythis tweet:"thomas jopson/edward little, exhibitionism, alternative history - no homophobia, lead poisoning, the Arctic". I didn't quite get the lead poisoning in there, sorry.
Relationships: Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Comments: 19
Kudos: 52
Collections: @terror_exe Flash Fest





	come and see

**Author's Note:**

> Amazing how even in a no homophobia AU I find myself centering Edward Little's shame and repression. Universal constants.
> 
> Let's just suspend our disbelief here and pretend Jopson has a private little cabin just off the captain's chambers for this fic. It just wouldn't work with those little curtained berths. (Edit 9/04/2020: a helpful commenter informs me that this WAS actually the case for the captain's stewards on Erebus and Terror! You may unsuspend your disbelief at will.) Also, for context, I imagine this fic taking place sometime in the summer of 1847 - nobody's having a great time, but shit hasn't truly hit the fan as much as it will.

Up until quite recently, Edward had been handily capable of avoiding such entanglements as this.

Perhaps entanglement was not the word - shipboard romance, maybe, but that would imply a level of reciprocation. An infatuation, then, with a fellow sailor. Unlooked for and unreturned and with an upsetting depth of emotion. It could not be worse. So he had believed.

It was generally considered unprofessional to enter any sort of liaison, romantic or otherwise, with a fellow crewmember. For the seamen it had its practical difficulties, but it was generally considered too widespread a problem for command to crack down on without engendering more ill feeling than was wise. For a ranking officer such as he was, with aspirations to rise still higher, it was nearly always unthinkable. Oh, sometimes two lieutenants or a captain and his second would form an engagement at the end of a voyage, but they would never be openly attached while at sea, and at any rate Edward did not even have this proximity of rank to bolster him. 

He had never looked for such bolsters before - his career came first, and the hard labor of learning how to command the men and defer appropriately to his commanding officers had left him with no time to think of romance. In this vein of endeavoring to do that which would best serve his career, he had always planned on settling down with a suitable fellow on firm land. Granted he had never worked out the particulars of that goal, granted he had shied away chronically all his life from the sort of prim and proper society where such a match might be made, granted he had been without an attachment for so long that his family had begun to despair - but he did intend on forming a respectable engagement, be it sometime or another.

Or he had, at any rate. Then he had gone and gotten frozen in with Thomas Jopson for two winters and it had all gone rather badly awry.

He has tried his utmost not to indulge these feelings. A relationship that would be frowned upon in calm waters could spell disaster in their precarious situation, a fact to which his captain could not be insensitive - and Edward did so wish to do well on this voyage, in any way he still could. Besides this there was the looming fact of Jopson’s lower rank, a particular torture to Edward. He would die before he put Jopson in a situation where there was any inkling that he would be somehow obliged to accept Edward’s advance, and he was keenly aware that this encompassed any situation he could think of in which he was to make such an advance. And anyway, Jopson had always seemed to be somehow _Crozier’s_ \- a vaguely formed idea that was possibly unfair to the captain and certainly unfair to Jopson. But when Edward snuck a look at Jopson in the course of the day and saw him always so plainly attuned to Crozier’s wishes, his needs, and it sometimes seemed even his thoughts, it did make him rather want to yelp a retreat from whatever tuggings of heart or groin toward the captain’s steward he might have been entertaining. Was entertaining. Was fairly welcoming into his parlor with arms thrown wide and laying out a full and lavish tea service for, to be perfectly truthful, with shameful regularity. 

In Edward’s defense, this may have had something to do with the small sweet smiles that frequently resulted from these furtive glances he kept sending Jopson’s way. Could be explained further, perhaps, by the fact Edward sometimes was certain he felt Jopson’s eyes examining him in kind. But surely, Edward always reminded himself, Jopson was simply fulfilling a duty. It was part and parcel of a steward’s job to make himself agreeable to the officers, to be polite and pleasant in countenance, to be attuned to the mood of the room. Edward must not let himself imagine that Jopson shared his longing, that they had some particular connection, simply because of a few smiles and glances. He had taken mortifying wrong turns in the maze that was social life often enough that he would employ a stringent, learned cautiousness even towards a man of equal rank. And this was Jopson, fastidious and consummately professional and _his_ _subordinate_ , however indirectly. He must not assume, must not imagine.

And yet. He found his eyes drawn to Jopson at every dinner, every meeting with the captain. He basked in the warmth he felt each time Jopson’s smile was turned his way, a warmth that was so hard to come by in a place like this. He carefully collected each bit of information about Jopson’s life, each precious expression on his face, each of the rare times he had made the steward laugh, and held them close to his heart. He conceived excuses to meet him, to share even a moment of conversation. What was the harm, he had reasoned, in enjoying the man’s company? 

So we come to our current predicament.

Left behind from one of Crozier’s rare visits to Erebus, feeling out of his dwindling wits for want of something to do on a ship full of men to sail her and unable to budge an inch, he had overheard Gibson clattering about and complaining that someone had mislaid a freshly-opened package of soap flakes. It had taken Edward no time at all to decide to call on Jopson - to see if his expertise could help the younger steward, to see if he recalled seeing the box. To see him, Edward realizes now with embarrassing clarity. The rest had been convenience.

He had not thought to knock when he reached the door to the steward’s tiny cabin, for it was slightly ajar already. He slid it further open by possibly an inch and was brought up short, unable to think of much at all.

Edward had not considered his approach to be particularly stealthy, but it must have been, for Jopson was sprawled on his tiny berth with eyes screwed shut and mouth panting open, all-too-clearly visible in the spotty mirror that was angled perfectly for Edward’s viewing (of course Jopson would still find the time to polish his own mirror on top of a workload that was heavier than an officer’s most days, of course his neatness would be consummate, and of course it would conspire to torture Edward in this way). His shirt was shockingly rumpled, pushed up to his chest, and below—

His prick stood ruddy and proud against his pale stomach with its purposeful trail of dark hair. He was beautifully hard, head all out, and as Edward stood there rooted to the spot a bead of clear fluid welled from the slit and slowly dripped down to catch in the hair that furred his stones. This hair looked unbearably soft, with the enticing promise of raw body heat behind it, Edward thought in a moment of supreme weakness.

Then his eyes dropped lower, unable to look away, and he felt weaker still. Jopson’s nimble hands, always busy, were now engaged below his stones, pushing - something - into the grasping depth of his hole. When he withdrew the object Edward could see it was carved into the shape of a phallus, in a light wood or possibly in ivory. He spared a moment to wonder at such an artifact before Jopson drove it back into himself with a slick sound and he was occupied entirely by the curious sensation of a flush creeping onto his face at the same time as his prick began to harden in his smalls. 

This duality of feeling jolted Edward back into reality a bit, and he experienced a quick succession of thoughts. First, the resolution that he should leave at once. Second, the gripping fear of being overheard as he attempted to escape. Third, somewhat dimly, the shock that ever-professional Jopson could be so brazen in his pleasure. Fourth, a return to the conviction that he had to leave before he violated Jopson’s privacy further. Fifth— 

And here he came suddenly out of his reverie to see that Jopson’s eyes were startlingly open. They slid unmistakably to meet Edward’s in the mirror and stayed there, staring boldly. He opened his mouth in a drawn-out whine of a word, quiet, still perfectly intelligible: “Edward.”

Edward could not account for the expression on his face in that moment, nor for the sound that clawed its way up his throat. How often he had thought to ask Jopson to call him by his Christian name, how often he had second-guessed the request as demanding or familiar! And now, to hear it spoken so—

Edward had the door open, then closed behind him, and was across the cabin in an instant. He was arrested by the sight of Jopson’s body, his eyes shining, his chest heaving, the image so real and sharply focused where it had been fuzzy and far away in the mirror. He might have stood staring into Jopson’s eyes until the ship was crushed around them by the ice, but Jopson - Thomas - saved him from such a fate by pushing himself up on one arm and seizing Edward’s hair to pull him down and kiss him soundly. 

Edward had never been kissed so. He hoped that he was contributing adequately, but mainly he was content to lean down and let Thomas map his mouth in desperate, searing strokes of his tongue and teasing nips of his teeth. When they broke apart he fumbled to get his flies open, burning for Thomas’ touch, in between bending down for more fleeting kisses. He felt Thomas’ hand grope blindly for his hip to pull him closer, then feel for the waistband of his drawers and tug them down to free his prick. All Edward could do when he first felt Thomas’ hand on him, warm and sure and still faintly oiled from where it had been not a minute ago, was clutch convulsively at Thomas’ coarsely haired calf and dig his fingers in behind the knee. This earned him a sharp tug and a groan from Thomas, who employed his free hand to guide Edward’s grasp down to his hole. His eyes burned into Edward’s with the same strength of purpose as when he had seen him in the mirror and he spoke in a hot hushed whisper, hand guiding Edward’s to grip the carved phallus: “Fuck me. Edward, fuck me. Please.”

Edward’s head spun as he fumbled to comply, to do anything and everything Thomas would have of him. The feeling of Thomas’ rim beneath his fingers was like nothing he’d ever felt in his somewhat rote history of self-pleasure. He was soft and stretched around the phallus and unbelievably hot in such a cold place, the heat of his body nearly enough to burn Edward. When Edward grasped the base of the phallus and drew it out almost to the tip, Thomas gave a drawn-out gasp as his hole clenched and sucked at the smooth slick wood. Edward felt dizzy. It was all he could do to push it back in, angling for the spot that made him shake when he would do this to himself with fingers. He was rewarded with another small gasp and the feeling of Thomas’ leg clenching and unclenching in his grasp. God but if he had known — he would have come to Thomas the first day out of port. Would have courted him, given him gifts, kissed his hands. Would have fucked him and been fucked by him until he could not recall where they were bound. 

Preoccupied as he was with Thomas’ hole and with romantic notions, Edward had not forgotten his cock. It still stood hard as ever, leaking steadily now onto Thomas’ taut heaving belly. Edward wanted —

He looked at Thomas inquiringly, beseechingly, as he sank half-onto his knees and lowered his head to hover at the tip of Thomas’ cock, removing his hand from his leg to drift downwards and inwards. He thumbed over Thomas’ twitching stones, feeling himself leak and jolt as he discovered that the hair there was as soft as he had thought. Thomas dropped his head back briefly and huffed, a shocked little sound. He nodded rather expansively, head lolling about. Edward descended further.

He licked over Thomas’ slit first, gathering the salty fluid there and savoring the newness of it on his tongue. By the time he had sealed his lips around the head and begun to suck gently, Thomas was making little bitten-off sounds into his hand and squirming under Edward’s dual ministrations. He twisted the phallus methodically in and out of Thomas as he felt spit collect at his lips and chin, and he began to feel a blissful sense of calm such as had not visited him for a year at least. Here was everything he wanted — and he knew how to do this, if not in particulars then in principle. He could sit here at his work for the rest of his life, mesmerized by the labor of Thomas’ pleasure. 

All too soon he felt a hand in his hair, tugging him away from this most wonderful task. “Edward,” Thomas gasped, and oh, he would never tire of hearing his name on those bitten bow lips. “I’m close— I’ll not—”

Edward felt another twitch from his neglected prick at the words, accompanied again by a ruddy flush in his cheeks as he gathered his response. “Please,” he managed, “let me have it, let me taste you.”

Thomas groaned far too loudly and bit his lip hard, nodding wildly. Edward dropped his mouth back onto Thomas’ prick with renewed vigor and pressed with the thumb of the hand that clutched the phallus into the hot little space of skin between Thomas’ stones and hole. It was a trick he had discovered to finish himself quickly, and it worked to beautiful effect on Thomas. His thighs shuddered around Edward’s ears as he flooded Edward’s mouth in bitter spurts, hand now aimlessly stroking Edward’s hair. Edward’s throat convulsed to swallow him without a mess - it was not a taste he savored on its own, but this was an indelible mark of _Thomas_ , Thomas’ desire for him, and so was most precious and desirable.

As Thomas recovered above him Edward dropped kisses absently about his thighs, wondering what would happen now. Perhaps he should finish himself to avoid imposing, or perhaps he would soon be dismissed altogether. He was nearly resigned to this gloomy outlook when Thomas tugged at his hair again. Edward came willingly upward to meet Thomas’ flushed face, lips parted in as sweet a smile as Edward had ever seen. “Come on then,” Thomas whispered, hand pressing at Edward’s back, “let me.” And just like that, Edward was being drawn into another axis-tilting kiss.

Through a haze of joy and the overwhelming sensation of Thomas’ tongue licking his own taste out of Edward’s mouth, Edward heard a wet sucking noise from somewhere beneath them. He felt his prick grow impossibly harder as he glanced down and realized that Thomas had pulled the phallus out, leaving his hole fluttering open and slick. Blushing somewhat foolishly for the umpteenth time that hour, Edward slid a hand down to cup Thomas’ cheek and murmured, “May I—” 

Thomas nodded immediately. He grasped for Edward’s cock and began to stroke him with a hand made slick by an action that had escaped Edward’s notice as Edward slipped his index finger into Thomas’ weakly clenching heat with dizzying ease. For a moment it was all verging on too much — then he adjusted to the feel of Thomas’ hand on him, that most glorious sensation that Edward had tried to avoid imagining for years on end, and it was perfect. 

He moved his finger wonderingly in and out of Thomas, feeling his walls press in tight despite having been filled so beautifully only minutes ago. As Thomas did something distractingly exquisite with Edward’s foreskin he brought a second finger up to feel around Thomas’ rim, then dipped it in nearly as easily as the first. Thomas’ hand suddenly clutched Edward’s prick harder, and Edward realized he must have bumped into that little seat of pleasure by accident. He looked up at Thomas, worried: “Too much?” But Thomas shook his head and huffed out, “No, good, good,” and chased Edward’s lips for another kiss as he resumed working Edward’s cock in those attentive hands. It was in that way, stooped slightly to kiss Thomas as he fucked into his impossible heat with two shaking fingers, that Edward felt his crisis approach. He began thrusting minutely into Thomas’ hand with an edge of the frantic, stuttering his fingers in and out of Thomas. When Thomas shook around him and Edward saw his soft cock twitch against his belly and drool out another small jet of spend, Edward could hold off no longer. He reached his peak with a violence that almost folded his legs under him, leaving him blind and wild for several instants. 

When he regained sense it was to see Thomas removing a wet handkerchief from the head of Edward’s prick and folding it, then - scandalously - tucking it under his pillow. He met Edward’s eyes with an unrepentant smile, a salacious reflection of the sweet little looks Edward had so often received from across a room. How stupid, how ineffectually cautious Edward had been to think that those looks were but a reflection of duty or rank.

“Good god, I’ve been a fool,” Edward sighed. The heady atmosphere seemed to dissolve around them, and the smile melted from Thomas’ face to be replaced with a neutral mask that could not altogether conceal his alarm. “Oh, god, I don’t mean—” Edward paused, cursed himself silently. This was why he had learned so thoroughly to keep his mouth shut. “I only meant. I spent so long trying to keep myself from wanting you. I needn’t have, I see now. But it felt improper. I didn’t want you to feel forced.”

Thomas smiled again now, an expression that this time left Edward feeling rather on the outside of some grand joke. “Oh, Edward. I knew you wouldn’t come to me. You’re much too concerned with what’s proper for any of that. It had to be my doing.” When Edward looked blankly back at him, he continued with a twinkle in his eyes, “You have a very particular footfall, Lieutenant Little. And you do so often search me out in my moments away from work. I hadn’t made time to polish that mirror for ages before this week.”

Edward blushed more fiercely than ever. “I— I am not sure what to say. Thank you, I suppose. You are right—” He fidgeted with his hands. “I never would have done a thing. You could have got down on one knee in front of the entire wardroom and I wouldn’t have been the wiser.” He shut his mouth quickly, aware of having betrayed more emotion than he meant to, but Thomas only beamed wider. 

“That would lend some much-lacking excitement to the command meetings,” Thomas said with a laugh. “All in time, Edward.”

Edward tried to smile back at this, but only managed looking faintly dumbstruck as he registered the words. Something told him Thomas understood.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I really thought I wouldn't get anything in here because I just found out about the fest yesterday. Then I wrote for like eight hours as if possessed by a demon. I got so little sleep last night. Hope it's hot, this is the first explicit thing I've ever published. LMAO.
> 
> Edit 8/31/2020: title changed because I saw another fic in this collection had my first title before I did, oops.
> 
> Edit 9/04/2020: de-anonymized!


End file.
